


A Christmas Carol: Blacklist style

by Myshka_Lokis



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Ending, Ghost of Christmas Present - Freeform, Ghost of Christmas-Yet-To-Come, Happy Ending, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Merry Christmas to all, Some angst, ghost of christmas past - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myshka_Lokis/pseuds/Myshka_Lokis
Summary: This is my secret Santa present from the Lizzington Facebook group. Heavily inspired by Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol.





	A Christmas Carol: Blacklist style

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it. This had to be the single longest thing I've ever written.

Tentative: A Christmas Tale?

  
It was a cold and windy Christmas Eve and Red was alone in his current safe house; nursing a glass of scotch. The only light present in the room was that of the roaring fire resting in the fireplace. The rest of the room rested in shadow. Light and Shadow were playing across Red’s face, creating a vast expanse of emotions and reflexions. He was brooding. White knuckles tight around the tumbler of scotch. A scowl marring his handsome feature. A storm brewing in his eyes. He hated Christmas. Yet he couldn’t feel but a small niggling of guilt digging away at his heart; or what was left of it. Elizabeth had invited him to her new apartment to celebrate Christmas Day tomorrow and he had rudely rebuffed her.

Snarling quietly to himself he hardened his mind once more. _She deserved it he thought_. Elizabeth knew how hard this time of the year was for him. With a smooth motion, he threw back the scotch and reached for more, only to find an empty bottle. He tried to stand and reach for a new bottle but suddenly found his sense of balance impaired, it seems he had drunk more than his usual. _Whatever I might as well just stay here in this chair and be miserable on my own._ His thoughts were especially poisonous tonight. Red stared into the fire, losing track of time. It wasn’t until the clock in the mantle struck midnight that he stirred. The fire had run low, and an unnatural cold seeped into the room. Red could swear he saw his breath when he exhaled. A shiver passed through his body just as the last of the fire died out. A blue glow started to permeate the room, and suddenly a figure was standing before him. Red’s first instinct was to reach for his weapon, finding to his surprise it wasn’t on him, then he stopped and stared… the figure seemed slightly transparent, and he couldn’t tell if it was a male or female standing before him. The body was too androgynous, and the expressions on the figure’s face seemed to flow and shift never staying constant.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Still on the defensive Red was desperately looking around for something to use as a weapon.

  
  
_“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I have come to show you your past Christmases and how they shaped who you are today”_ Red was surprised, the figure had not moved its mouth at all and yet he could listen to its voice perfectly. He had never before believed in ghosts, and now it seemed he was faced with one. Red pinched himself… no, the figure was still there in front of him. Not solid, but now quite intangible either.

_“Take my hand Raymond, for we only have tonight and there is much for you to see”_ without waiting for a response the being or spirit reached out for Red’s hand. It’s touch cold, yet warm. Colours distorted around his vision and when next he could see he saw he was floating slightly with a view down on his childhood home. His childhood was not something he thought about much. He didn’t have a bad life, but it certainly could’ve been better. He came from a humble working-class family, a loving if fragile mother and a strict but caring father. Or at least he had been that way once. Then he lost his job and struggling to maintain his family he had fallen in with some rather unsavoury fellows. His strict bearing became harsh and family dinners scarce and dim. He saw his boy self who couldn’t be more than 5 trying to nick some freshly made cookies from the counter, and withholding a smile he saw his mother slap his knuckles away. A familiar sulk making his way into kid Raymonds face. Suddenly he heard the front porch open and a strong looking male come in. Raymond now was physically very much like his father, but with his mother's colouring.

He had striking green eyes and strawberry red hair. His mother had much the same tones, whilst his father had hazel eyes, with brown hair. Little Red’s face illuminated with a smile and racing as fast as his little legs could carry him he launched himself into his father’s waiting arms.

A chuckle escaped Red’s mouth he remembered that Christmas now, it had been a happy one.

_“Look, don’t you see how happy you were? Adversity soon struck your family and maybe sad times came, but still, you remained strong. You had hope.”_ With a wave of his hand Red’s surroundings blurred again, refocusing on the same scene but years later. Little Red was not so little now, you could see hints of the man he would become. Chubby baby fat had been replaced by gangling teenager limbs.

He could see the hint of his first whiskers that he displayed proudly when the first hints of what could become a beard started to appear. The scene was far from happy though. His mother was bed-ridden, no smell of freshly baked cookies permeated the house, not even a hint of Christmas decorations. Loud steps and banging could be heard coming from downstairs, prompting teenage Raymond to hurry outside of his mother’s room. An expression of dread but determination gracing his teenage face. Adult Raymond tensed beside the spirit and reached out hoping to avoid seeing this memory. But to no avail, the spirit ignored him, he was destined to live through this all over again. His father a much-changed man from years before was rooting around in the kitchen, desperately looking for the emergency cash Red’s mother always had hidden away. That cash was safely in teenager Raymond’s hands since he didn’t want his father taking it to gamble away again. He saw his father shouting at him, he shouted back, a backhand from his father sent him flying into the nearest wall the fight started to grow out of proportion when the unthinkable happened, Raymond’s sick mother tried to separate them. His father threw a punch at the same time, it knocked her down and a sickening crack was heard. Both men looked down and saw Mrs Reddington cradling a badly broken arm, with a nasty bruise blossoming on her face. An ambulance was called, charges where filed, the next day of Christmas Day had been a blur and in the middle of the chaos, Raymond left. The very next day he was enlisting in the Naval Academy at the age of 17. The spirit reached out to Red once more, and in the resulting blurring of his surroundings, he got glimpses of the Christmas Eves and Days that had been spent in the Navy Academy. He even saw his graduation, which was not even remotely close to Christmas, he glimpsed his wedding to Carla his first wife. Everything grew solid once again, and Red found himself once more in a familiar house. His house before he became The Concierge of Crime.

A strange sense of deja-vu assaulted him when once again the house smelling of fresh-baked cookies. The difference is that he was sitting at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread before him. a sudden pitter-patter of feet was heard and Red saw the beautiful figure of his daughter Jennifer barrel into him chattering at a thousand miles per second about something or other. He saw himself pick her up and twirl her around a huge smile on both their faces. Jennifer had inherited his strawberry-blonde hair and Carla's blue eyes. In his eyes, there was not a more beautiful girl. Red remembered how he even when Jennifer was 7 had been preparing for the day boys started to show interest in her. He was going to have to beat them all off. Jennifer begged Raymond to put her down and proceeded to drag him outside. If Red's memory served him right this was a day when it was snowing slightly outside and he had been at his most happy just watching Jennifer watch the snow and trying to catch a snowflake in her mouth. Simple pleasures, for an uncomplicated life.

_"Are you enjoying this? You were so happy... so content. Alas, this life was not for you. We have one more Christmas to see and then I shall take my leave"_ Before he could even make a token protest Red's world whirled again. Stones dropped into his stomach, he just knew what he was being forced to relive again. He couldn't fathom why this spirit, this being was so cruel as to make him relive his worst memory again. He found himself in the passenger seat of his car. Raymond from that time was so eager, he could still remember the emotions rolling happily inside him, thinking about the surprise early arrival he would pay his wife and daughter. Jennifer had turned 11 a couple of months back, and because he was deployed at the time he missed the celebration. So now his car was loaded down with Christmas presents for both loves of his life and Jennifer's belated birthday present. So eager was he that he failed to notice he was running out of gas. He didn't notice that is until the car sputtered and stopped running altogether. Red saw himself groaning at his stupidity, it was freezing outside but he really wanted to make it home in time for Christmas Dinner. He figured that as long as he locked his car it would rest fine until he could send a tow to pick it up tomorrow, so shrugging Red saw the Raymond of before putting in his many layers and start the trek home. He was about 5 miles from his house anyway. And remembering his wife's cooking he figured he could use the extra exercise. He was excited too not only about the prospect of spending the holidays with his family but on telling his wife about the recent promotion he got to the rank of Captain. Youngest ever if the Navy records where to be believed. Red floated behind himself trying to interact with his past self, trying to stop him from coming home. but no matter what he did he could only float and passively observe. The Spirit of Christmas Past floated ominously behind them both. The house came into view and Raymond and consequently Red sped up.

Raymond turned up the driveway and stopped dead... just staring. The lights were on and dancing cheerily in the frosty air. Contrasting sharply with the door hanging off its hinges and the sepulchral silence inside the house. His heartbeat sped up and he ran into the house.

"Please stop... please I'm begging you I don't want to see this please not again" Red was unashamedly begging the spirit that had brought him here in the first place. He didn't understand why he was made to relive the best and worst times of his past. Tears were streaming down his face. Everything else Red wished had passed like a blur, but whether it did or not he would never know since to him it felt much the same as it did in the past. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. He felt as if he was moving through molasses. There was blood everywhere. He tripped over a body and glancing down he saw to his horror the body of his darling Jennifer, throat cut from ear to ear. Her last expression one of abject terror. Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat Red and Raymond both looked around, one with the weight of knowing what it was he would find, the other with just plain dread but an unwanted flicker of hope that his wife remained whole. She was alive, but not for long. When Raymond found her it was clear she had been assaulted in the worst ways you could assault a woman. An envelope was taped to her chest, and though she was breathing Raymond knew she was not long for this world. The least he could do was expedite her arrival, so with a heavy heart and tears flooding dimming his vision, he pressed a cushion to her face. Once the deed was done he took the envelope and left. Disappeared and nothing would be heard from him again until 4 years later.  
Red was almost catatonic, reliving his worst ever memory was some cruel and unusual punishment. Disregarding his reputation, he prostrated himself before the spirit and begged once more...

"Please no more, I can't take this anymore, what do you want from me?"

The spirit was impassive, but still, it gently cradled his head. _"Don't you see? This experience was your tempering by fire, you survived and became all the stronger because of it. It was a cruel fate and harsh, but it was necessary. In time you will see that had you not been forged in this fire, the world around you and the people who surround you now would be much changed or even dead. Now our time here is at an end. Wake up Raymond... wake up."_  
  
   
Red woke up in a cold sweat. The fire had long gone cold, the room in darkness. Glancing to his right he saw that he still had an empty scotch tumbler in his hands. He figured it must be nearing 3 am, everything was so quiet. But glancing at the hands of the clock he realised that the hand had not moved once inch from midnight. Red wiped the traces of tears from his face, trying to regain his lost composure. Suddenly there was light once more. Red startled glanced towards the source, only to find a cheering roaring fire in his fireplace. There was also the smell of nutmeg and other spices in the air. Everything seemed full of cheer and exultation. Even then Red couldn't help but notice that some corners of the room remained dark and dim. As if for all the happiness he was involuntarily feeling right now, some places were not so lucky.

_"Well? Are you going to stay dumbfounded in the chair forever? We have things to do, people to visit and very short time in which to do it."_ Red was startled out of his reverie, by a booming, but cheerful voice. Turning quickly towards his left he saw a towering giant of a man, with a full beard and rosy cheeks. He seemed full of cheer, full of warmth. Yet when he reached his hand towards the spirit, he felt but a sliver of cold.

  
  
"And who might you be? Are you going to make me see unbearable things too?"

Red might have been a little cutting with that remark, but after the ordeal from the last spirit, he was not feeling particularly charitable.

_"I am the spirit of Christmas Present. And I have come to show you just what you're missing right now. So come, times a-ticking"_ Red was about to refuse when once again he wasn't given the choice. His surroundings blurred and shifted around him in a now familiar dance.

Red heard laughter and cheery Christmas music permeating the unfamiliar house. It wasn’t until he heard Harold’s voice that he clocked into his surroundings. It seems he was intruding on the Cooper family’s Christmas Eve celebration. Red knew that Harold had been going through a hard time with Charlene, what with her confession of cheating, but from what he could see they had worked through it. They had just finished setting up for dinner and at Charlene’s insistence, they held hands for Grace. There was an air of ease and casual happiness in the home. Red was staring a Harold when a brief shadow crossed over his face, he figured that it had something to do with the stresses of the job.

_“Look and rejoice, this is part of the Christmas Spirit that people talk so much about, it is all about giving. Times may get hard, but during Christmas, humans endeavour to leave it all behind.”_ Red breathed in deeply from the smells of dinner, he was grateful for not being there physically since it smelled divine.

The spirit reached out and took his arm once more, Red couldn’t help but notice that the brief coldness he had felt before had returned, slightly colder now. Once he got his bearing back again, all he saw was dark surroundings and a pitiful amount of candle-light. He couldn’t help but think back on his own brooding before these strange happenings started. He heard the breathing of someone that was trying not to cry. Turning around he spotted Donald Ressler, he was listlessly sipping from a beer bottle, the remains of Chinese take-out in the coffee-table in front of him. In his other hand, he was holding two photos. Inching closer Red’s heart constricted when he saw a picture of Audrey and the photo of a blurry ultrasound, showing a baby still to early in development to tell the gender.  The reason why Red always needled Donald so much was because he saw so much of himself in him. Except he chose the opposite road. In a way he admired Donald, but looking back Red didn’t think he would ever choose a different path. Still, Donald’s quiet mourning gave him pause. How was it that at the same time Harold was having a happy family affair, were there others so alone?

_“Heart-wrenching isn’t it? Just as there is Light in Christmas so too must there be Dark. You experienced both in your past don’t you remember? But remember that happiness can be found in even the darkest of places; if one only remembers to turn on the light”_ Just as the spirit gave that last piece of wisdom, Red saw Donald straighten up and resolve flow through him. He turned up the lights of his apartment. It seemed he had resolved that he had mourned enough and it was his turn to step forward. Red just knew that tomorrow when he woke up, his loss wouldn’t be the first thing crossing through his mind in the morning… it would be the second.

A third time his surroundings blurred. He saw himself standing next to Lizzie who was also alone. After her exoneration, Tom had never returned, and she had moved on. Still Red could not fathom why she was so solemn on such a night. He knew she still mourned Sam but it didn’t seem she was in such a dark place as Donald had been. Turning around he saw the table with two seats, yet the food grew cold and untouched. He knew one of the seats was for Lizzie, but who would be so cold and callous as to stand her up this night. Walking around the table he noticed that the other seat had a sealed letter resting near the plate. Inching closer he saw his name printed on it, and what little remained of his heart clenched in pain. It seemed he was the cold and callous bastard that had stood her up.  He didn’t understand why she would bother with a monster like him. Curiosity ran rampant throughout him as well. He was curious as to what he would find in the letter. He refused to think about their time in the run. About the physical comfort, they had found in each other since it had only happened the one time and she had never brought it up again. Though sometimes he thought she wanted to.

_“The day isn’t over yet, you can still fix this._ Yes _, you hurt her this time, but forgiveness is always in the cards.”_ The spirit’s voice was growing weaker and turning back Red saw that what had once been a towering giant of a man had grown feeble and thin. The spirit smiled  
_“You are surprised at my appearance aren’t you? The present is only today as time goes on and the day turns into tomorrow I shall cease to exist. Come I need to take you back there is one more spirit you have yet to meet.”_ With a cold and thin hand, the spirit whirled Raymond back towards his body. In the brilliant whirlpool of colours, he saw two more happy scenes, that of Aram and Samar celebrating together a small dinner, tentative overtures into something more than friendship being forged. And Dembe’s time with his daughter and granddaughter. Songs and merriment abundant in the family.  
  
  
With what seemed like a shock of cold water Red sat up once more in his armchair. Again he saw the clock still pointed to midnight. He got up and lit the fire up again, stoking it to a blazing heat, yet for some reason he found he wasn’t able to get warm. His breath was now visible on each exhalation. Shivers were running up his body. The light of the fire also seemed to be lacking, darkness permeated all. Mist started gathering up around the corners of the room it seemed his final visitor had arrived.

Red stared all around him, trying to find the elusive visitor. Was it possible this third and final ghost was shy? The seeping cold was starting to get to him though and fighting back a shiver Red turned back to the fire in hopes of finally getting warm. It was just as he was turning that he spied the doorknob turning and the door opening on its own. A dark figure standing on the threshold. Once Red's eyes adjusted to the lack of light he wished he had never seen this next ghost.

 For the first time in his life; words failed him. Red felt himself swallowing. Fear was starting to pool in his gut. The spirit made no aggressive overtures. He just pointed towards him and made the sign to follow. It seemed this spirit was mute. Not that Red needed words to figure out what it wanted. So against his better judgement, he got up and followed the spirit out the door. It was storming outside, a blizzard ravaging the streets. If he hadn't had previous experience with the other two spirits, he would be wondering how he appeared from his room directly into the middle of a snowy street. Gathering his bearings he recognized the apartment block in front of him as the place where Lizzie lived. Except it looked very much changed. windows were broken or boarded up. No light shined through the darkness. Red wrapped his arms around himself trying to shield himself from the cold. Funnily enough, he was numb to his surroundings, he could touch the snow and his body knew it was cold, and yet he couldn't feel a thing. Suddenly he spotted the spirit beckoning him from inside the building, so after one more wary stare, he followed suit. Inside it was just as dismal as it was outside. In a sudden warping of space, Red found himself on the second floor inside what used to be Lizzie's home.

It was absolute chaos inside. Furniture was overturned, a table was broken, chairs splintered... even in the pervading darkness he thought he could spot the stain of blood pooling on the ground. Panic and rage overtook him.

"Where is she! Why are you showing me this? What happened here?"

Spitting questions at a rapid-fire pace, the spirit did nothing but stare for a moment then turn his back, obviously expecting to be followed. Resting on the kitchen counter he found a newspaper dated 25th December 2016, that was about 1 into his future. Red guessed this meant that whatever had happened here, had not happened back in his reality. He could stop it. Panic gripped him once more, judging by his surrounding this attack did not happen in December, it might have happened much earlier. Still Red knew this was the future, he had been visited by Christmas Past, and Christmas Present, clearly this last guide was Christmas-Yet-To-Come.

A cold touch on his shoulder surprised him, it seemed the spirit wanted to be followed again. Turning around he found himself in Cape May. Why he was here he didn't know, so walking aimlessly towards the shore he kept his eyes attentive for details. It didn't take him long to find it, and when he did his steps faltered. The whole task-force and Dembe where there. Staring hopelessly into the distance. In Dembe's hands rested his coat, shoes, sunglasses, and fedora. It seemed future Reddington had chosen the coward's route but why he chose that was still was unknown to him. Evidently, the team had arrived too late to save him, judging by Donald's and Dembe's soaking wet clothes. Tears tracking down both their eyes. Red didn't miss the fact that Elizabeth was not with the team.

Once again his vision blurred and this time when it stopped he wished for it to blur once more. A graveyard. The spirit had brought him to a graveyard. He didn't even have to walk, just staring down at his feet and his legs finally crumbled beneath him. He fell down to the ground with an anguished cry ripped from his very core. The grave that was at his feet showed the name:

**Elizabeth Scott**  
**(29/Apr/1983 - 24/Dec/2016)**  
**Excellent FBI agent and partner**  
**A quick wit and amazing friend**  
**Beloved mother.**

Mother. She had become a mother. Glancing towards the right he saw a smaller headstone. White the colour of innocence. This one destroyed him once more.

**Agnes Scott Reddington**  
**(15/Feb/2016 - 24/Dec/2016)**  
**Beloved daughter, gone too soon.**

A choked sob escaped him. He had a daughter with Elizabeth. The thought was almost too much for him to process and faced with the tiny gravestone he wished to join them, too. He figured that's exactly what led future Red to walk into the waves at Cape May.

_"You rebuffed her invitation. She never told you. A rift grew between you until you left. She was killed by supporters of the Cabal. Lured you out of the shadows and you carved a path of blood to avenge her. Then you decided to join them too."_ It seemed the spirit was not mute after all.

"Please take me back"

That was all the Red said. Looking back up he found himself in his armchair a warm and crackling fire in the fireplace. The empty tumbler of Scotch still in his hand. He dropped it carelessly in the ground hearing the dry thump of it as it hit the carpeted floor. He groaned. Had he dreamed all that? Glancing at the clock he caught the moment in which the hand pointed to 1 minute past midnight. Had it all been in his head?

_"Of course it was all in your head, but why should that mean it isn't real? You can remember what can't be changed, live in the moment and change that which has not happened yet. You just have to make the first move."_ A dry whisper echoed in his head.

Red nodded new resolve burning within him. A new decision made he got up and got ready for bed.

* * *

A tired and groggy Elizabeth walked sleepily towards her front door. It had been knocking incessantly since 7 am. Opening the door she was faced with a strangely exuberant Red, loaded down with presents and what she presumed where apology flowers. She wanted to be angry with him. But glancing at the flowers and his eyes heavy with lack of sleep she just smiled slightly and moved to let him inside. Something deep inside her told her this was the beginning of something new and wonderful.


End file.
